


Craig Cucker :(

by Anonymous



Category: South Park
Genre: Begging, Cheating, Cuckolding, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Exhibitionism, Grooming, Humiliation, Large Insertion, M/M, PWP, Pet Play, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Sorry for the title, Verbal Humiliation, age gap, choke collar, excessive cum, if you are capable of being offended then do not read this, it's just sex, lil triggers list in notes, probably things i'm forgetting, slutty tweak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28793367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Tweek is in love with his sweet and adoring boyfriend Craig, but he's also in love with getting fucked stupid by a certain man who treats him like absolute dogshit. Plotless, barely-framed vignettes about how fucked up Tweek'll go for some good cock.
Relationships: Tweek Tweak/Craig Tucker, tweek tweak/mystery man
Comments: 13
Kudos: 34
Collections: Anonymous





	Craig Cucker :(

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the anon writing bad end box](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+anon+writing+bad+end+box).



> tw: incest mention but no actual incest, r-slur, kind of intense domestic abuse vibes, self harm in the first couple sentences but none after that, statutory rape obvs, uh idk please don't read this if you're delicate I don't wanna make anyone upset I don't wanna meet your momma just want to make you come-uh
> 
> This is "inspired" by Bad End Box by which I mean it's "ripped off" of Bad End Box but 1/10th as long and of a much lower quality. Read Bad End Box if you haven't it's disgustingly hot and if the last chapter doesn't come out in the next couple days I might have to burrow out of my enclosure to go bite the author's ankles until they finish.

I scratch at my neck to camouflage the bruises and the bites. They match my arms and my thighs, where I scrape with my tattered nails and chew anything that my teeth can reach into bloody, raw meat. Craig tuts and kisses at the marks, presses band aids over the worst of them. My knees are pocked with the indents of gravel. He dabs gently at them with peroxide-soaked toilet paper.

“How did your knees get so busted up?”

_In the park at night. In the alcove by the entrance to the public bathrooms. The buzz of the low streetlamp overhead, dark spots of dead insects inside like inverted stars. His face is censored by the shadows, but I know his expression. Unkind. His bounces the dripping girder of his cock against the tip of my nose, and I open wide to receive, rolling out my tongue like a red carpet, but he only yanks at the leash he’s clipped to my collar, knocking me off balance so I have to throw out my hands to catch myself, face inches from the concrete. He pulls me back up before I have a chance to right myself. My knees scrabble, leaving bloody smears as the gravel shreds my skin._

_“Spoiled brat,” he spits. “You ask the right way.”_

_I hesitate. He behaves unpredictably on purpose so that he can punish me for not following his unspoken commands. Doing nothing, though, is the worst thing I can do. It only takes a few seconds’ worth of pause before he calmly presses the sole of his shoe to my shoulder, preventing me from leaning in as he loops the leash over his hand and pulls back with steady, consistent pressure. The links of the chain crunch against each other as they’re pulled shut, pinching off my air supply. I know now that panicking only worsens the situation. Grimly, I close my eyes and simply wait for the chance to breathe again._

_“How does a good dog ask for a treat?” He lets the leash go slack. I wrack my brain and grasp the answer quickly enough this time. Up off of my knees, squatting so low the base of the tail plug in my ass scrapes the ground, paws clenched at collarbone height. Good dogs don’t make eye contact. I stare at the head of his dick instead. “Good. Now speak.”_

_“Arf,” I squeak shyly. I’m glad he let me keep my sneakers on, but at the same time it only makes me feel more naked._

_“I said ‘speak.’ Lemme hear it.”_

_I’m so flushed from shame, I can barely feel the cold. Still, I obey, raising my voice to perform a more earnest impression of a dog. “Rarf, rarf! Arf!”_

_“Do you want it?” He’s back to rubbing it against my nose, letting precum dribble down my top lip. “Let me hear how bad you want it, bitch.”_

_“Woof! Woof!” I’m losing my mind just a little. I don’t care who hears. I don’t care that dogs from around the neighborhood are starting to bark back. I’m one of them, just another mindless bitch in heat. I howl, long and loud, and a chorus joins in with me from around town._

_“Good.” My asshole twitches in excitement at the praise. I shake my hips, making my tail wag, and when he finally lowers his hard cock down onto my tongue, I go at it like it’s covered in peanut butter._

“I fell.” I say to Craig. He flicks his eyes up to me, searching my expression, and finding nothing, returns to mending my knees. Once the last band-aid’s in place, he gives it a kiss. He’s so sweet. He’s so nice. He’s so...

_It’s one of those rare days where he has the house to himself. Craig thinks I’m with my parents, and my parents think I’m with Craig. Some days he takes me straight up to his bed and shoves my face down into the pillow that smells like his wife’s shampoo and fucks me all day long, ordering me to ride him whenever he gets tired. Today, he hasn’t so much as touched me. It’s terrifying. I don’t know if he’s angry if me, or if he’s been waiting for me to do something, just getting more and more annoyed the longer it goes undone. The thought that he simply doesn’t want me anymore makes me want to vomit and die._

_I’m not allowed on the furniture without permission. I kneel on the floor in front of the couch, close enough to be on call but out of his periphery, so the sight of my tweaking can’t irritate him. He’s been watching golf all morning, acknowledging me only to drop empty beer cans into my lap. Silently, I take them to the kitchen to place in the recycling bin under the sink, returning with a fresh beer to open and place dutifully on the coffee table. I can smell him getting drunk. The intensity of his moods escalates when he’s drunk, but they’re as mixed of a bag as when he’s sober. As the third hour of silence approaches, I’m fighting back tears._

_He tosses another empty can at me. Not hard. If it were hard, at least that’d be a sign. I take it to the kitchen, sure to keep my footsteps silent. After I’ve balanced it on top of the towering pile in the recycling bin, I open the fridge and take a moment to gather myself. The cold, stale air feels good. It’s a relief to let myself twitch and jerk freely for a minute. I wish I was drunk, too. Back when I was still feral, he’d force some kind of stinging booze down my throat so I’d be too sluggish and stupid to fight. I’d kill for him to want me that bad these days. Maybe it’s my fault for turning into such a spoiled little slut. Oh well._

_I grab a beer. I drop my shorts and pull my shirt up over my head. While I press the painfully cold can to my nipples, I roll my teeth roughly over my bottom lip, agitating it ‘til it swells. There’s a glass bottle of olive oil on the counter. When I reach for it, I fumble slightly, making it bump loud against the counter._

_“What are you doing?” He snaps from the living room. “Get your ugly ass back in here.”_

_I scamper back to the living room, beer in one hand, bottle in the other. I’m careful not to look him in the eye while I check his expression: aware of my nudity, but not particularly amused. When I move to open the beer for him, he takes it from me and sets it down._

_“What’s this? What do you want?”_

_I wiggle my hips anxiously. I’m not feeling so sure about this decision anymore. I shrug._

_“What, are you stupid? Talk.”_

_“I...I, ech—”_

_He grabs my face, digging his thumb and index finger into my cheeks, forcing my lips into a pout. “I don’t want to hear those retard sounds you make. Understand?” He jerks my head up and down, nodding for me. “I’ll fucking_ give _you something to be nervous about if you don’t speak up when I’m talking to you.”_

_As soon as he releases me, I obey. “Please fuck me. Please. Sir.”_

_He looks me up and down, like he’s grading meat. “Why would I?”_

_My shoulders slump. He has a good point. I only argue so he doesn’t get angry with me for being unresponsive again. “I’ll do anything you want.”_

_“I don’t want anything from you.” He mutes the TV on the remote before facing me properly. “Look at yourself. You’re a used-up slut younger than most people are before they get to third base. Your one use is as a warmed-over hole for real men to empty their balls into, and your ragged cunt is too spent to even do that anymore.”_

_He hates hearing me cry, but as long as I’m quiet, I’m allowed to let tears fall. I cross my arm over my chest and hide my pathetic little dick behind my hand. If he wanted to kill me right now, I would let him. Maybe I’d be a little more exciting to him as a corpse._

_“Maybe I should give Craig a try. I bet he’s still nice and tight.”_

_My entire body screams in revulsion at the idea, but that’s the point. He’s baiting me. He wants me to say no, so he can punish me. Or maybe so he has an excuse to do it, just to show me he can. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait._

_“I won’t touch your little boyfriend. He wouldn’t just sit and take it. He was raised to be a man. He’s not a braindead bitch in heat like you.” When I open my eyes, he’s holding the beer out to me. I blink, confused. “Put this in your ass.”_

_“I...what?”_

_“I’m not repeating myself again. I’ll fuck you, but first I want to see you put this up your ass. You can leave out this much.” He marks an inch from the bottom with his finger. “If it gets stuck, getting it back out is your problem.”_

_I take the can. Length-wise, it wouldn’t be much of a challenge. The width is the problem. It’s bigger around than my forearm. It doesn’t help that it’s nearly too cold to hold with my bare hand. I bite the tip of my tongue to keep myself from vocalizing as I jerk. I don’t think I can do it, but not doing it just isn’t an option. There’s no winning this obedience game we play, but the second I refuse an order, I lose._

_I lay on the floor, on my back with my pelvis angled up. I pour a little puddle of olive oil on my belly, using the dip of my naval like an easel. When I peer up between my knees to check him for signs of disapproval, he’s back to watching television. This isn’t intended to be a show for him, to turn him on or even to entertain him. It’s just to prove to him how low I’ll debase myself for a chance to bounce on his cock._

_I only have a couple hours left until people start coming home. I get a running start with four fingers._

Craig can be so boring.

Back in his bedroom, he throws the blankets back and climbs onto his bed, patting the spot in front of him as if he’s calling a cat. I fit myself into my established position, little spoon, and he presses into me from behind with his entire body, like he’s trying to occupy the same space as I am. He’s comfortable and safe, like a stuffed animal, like my parents’ bed back in kindergarten before I realized how faulted adults could be. I’m happy we’re together. I’m happy he’s holding me. But I’m bored.

“You’re so quiet, babe,” he says into my ear, softly. I hum in acknowledgement. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired.”

He doesn’t believe me, because it’s not true, but not for the reasons I know he’s thinking. He kisses the back of my ear and mumbles, “You’re so cute. I love you so much. You’re so wonderful.”

“I love you too.” I pull the back of his hand to my lips. I love him. I love him. I’m going to spend my life with him. His love for me is the most important thing in my life. It’s granted. It’s unconditional. It’s as exciting as my own heartbeat. It’s as thrilling as the sun rising in the morning and setting at night. His mouth tastes like water and he smells like air. His touch is like my own clothes against my skin. He’s always there for me. He’s always there. He’s always fucking there.

He kisses the back of my ear again. It’s loud. It’s partially a relief when he moves to the belt of my jaw, but I know I’m in for a boring half an hour to come. He’ll kiss me all over, like he’s trying to get me warmed up, though the waiting does just the opposite. He’ll touch me respectfully, reverently, never doing anything he hasn’t done before, and then with an overgenerous smear of supermarket lube, he’ll rut into me slow, then fast, then he’ll pull out and finish in his hand, or if he’s feeling really wild, on my chest. He’s cute. He makes cute faces and cute sounds. Too cute. Like getting your leg humped by Batz Maru or something. Sometimes he’ll let it go when I tell him not to worry about getting me off. Sometimes he insists on giving me a cursory licking. It feels nice, but I hate the way he looks down there, so I keep my eyes shut tight and pretend we’re someone else.

_Craig thinks I’m at home. My parents think I’m with Craig. His family thinks he’s with his mother. We’re at a motel, the kind with doors that open right into the outside, with a dirty pool with no lifeguard. The carpet-heavy blinds are spread ‘til they overlap. I don’t know if they’re blocking out any daylight. I don’t know what time it is. I don’t know how long we’ve been here. I know he’s finished in me five times now without ever pulling out. I know that every muscle I have, from my neck to my ankles, has been yanked and jerked ‘til it tore, so my whole body is shivering from exhaustion and pain. If my feet hadn’t numbed to static, I wouldn’t even be able to continue stirring my hips on his spongey half-erection, just swabbing at a single spot located deep in my guts as idly as twiddling my thumbs. I’m melted into a sloppy stew of cum and battered intestines inside. As soon as we come apart, the mess is going to pour out of me, soiling the sheets down to mattress. I hate that I don’t have a proper womb to hold all the sperm he wastes inside of me._

_He’s dozing, propped up against pillows piled against the headboard, remote in hand. He paid extra for the porn channel, but complained that it was only soft shit, nude girls moving against nude guys at a modest distance from a fixed camera, choreographed and clean. Competing with them is nothing. I sink down again until I feel his pubic hair matting against my taint. When I try to lift up, just enough to give myself room to wiggle, my calf spasms hard, and I fall onto my back, knocking my skull against his kneecaps._

_“Hey.” His voice is sleepy, but not alarmed in the way a person who’s been bumped awake might be. “Are you tapping out halfway through?”_

_I try to speak, but my throat only clicks dryly. After smearing my sticky tongue around as best I can, my mouth is lubricated enough to say, “No...I’m guh—I’b gun—” Talking is requiring more breath than I have._

_“You should’ve quit after last round. Now you’ll have to finish what you started.”_

_“I don’ wah-uh quid.” I’m too cum-drunk and dehydrated to make my mouth work. “I wan moooore...I wan more coghk...” I cough, then hiccup._

_“You want more what?” He palms my cheek, letting his thumb slide into the corner of my mouth. It tastes like iron. Like sweat. It makes my mouth start to water again. I suck at it appreciatively._

_“More cock...pwease...,” and I go back to sucking his thumb, whining in the back of my throat._

_He’s in a good mood, I guess. He smiles, showing the crook of his teeth. He’s got the same maloccluded canines as Craig. “You’re just a little baby, aren’t you?”_

_“Yesh, shir.” I’ll be a baby. I’ll be a dog. I’ll be a condom. I’ll be a punching bag. I’ll be whatever he wants me to be._

_He picks up the yellowed plastic phone from the nightstand, hitting the zero with his pinkie. I can hear it ring into his ear while, drooling down my chin, I continue to lathe his thumb against my tongue. When the front desk answers, he makes a brief demand for a maid, and then returns the receiver to the cradle._

_I don’t know what he’s doing. I’m too stupid to worry. I hold him greedily in the slimy offal of my guts, too tired to do anything but clench and unclench in a last ditch effort to wring a final few drinks of cum free._

_The maid knocks on the door, but doesn’t wait for a response before entering. When she comes in close enough to see us, illuminated by the soft glow of porn, her face remains steady, jaded. I don’t have the spare blood to blush._

_“Hello.” He greets her with a polite nod. With both hands, he grabs me by the ass, and lifts me up and off of his cock, tossing me to the bed with the ceremony of pulling off a dirty sock. My asshole makes a disgusting squelch when it comes unplugged, and then continues to make the grotesque sucking and slurping sound of a boot coming unstuck from mud as the day’s semen pours out in a half-congealed ooze. I want to cover my face, but he grabs both of my wrists in one hand and uses the other to stroke himself only a quick dozen times, aiming his ejaculation down onto my face, where it floods into my nostrils, films over my eyelids, runs down my temples into my hair. The semen’s still flooding out of me._

_“While you’re cleaning this mess, babysit for me, alright? I’ll be in the shower.” I can’t see anything, but I feel the weight of him leave the mattress. His heavy footfalls pound toward the claustrophobic little bathroom, and the door snaps shut._

_The maid mutters in a foreign language. I lay, too humiliated to move, repulsed with myself. Soon, a warm, wet washcloth begins to rub across my face. The rough nubs of the terrycloth sting, but the maid’s face is kind once I can open my eyes._

_“English?” She asks, pointing to my mouth. I nod. She nods back. “I help you? I call family? Police?”_

_I shake my head. I could be with my loving boyfriend, being cuddled and praised and petted and treasured. I could be home, where my parents keep me clean and fed and safe. But I’m here, at this filthy hotel, covered in the crusting semen of a disgusting old man who doesn’t even like me, pitied by a woman who doesn’t blink at being forced into the exhibition play of a sex offender. I’m here by choice. Because I want to be. Because I’m even more depraved than the man who makes me do these things. I was born to serve pleasure to men like a barely-sentient sex toy, and I love it._

_“I’m sorry,” I can say truthfully, pointing to the humid puddle I’ve made. “Can I help?”_

_“No, no.” She taps me on top of the head before scuttling back out into the hall. I can see from the doorway as she digs in her cart. When she returns, she hands me a plastic bin full of Andes mints. “Sugar. Eat.”_

_I couldn’t bear to let her know that I’m not the victim she thinks I am._

I don’t deserve to, but I always sleep so easily in Craig’s arms. I wake up from a dream, disoriented, when the room explodes with light. Craig squeezes me tighter for just a second before he sits up, squinting furiously toward the source of the disruption.

“Sorry, didn’t realize you were sleeping,” he says. His voice more dynamic when we’re not alone. I don’t know which voice is his real one. I wiggle away from Craig’s grasp, though I know he’s not jealous like that. “I picked up some food on the way home. It’s downstairs.”

“Fuck, Dad,” Craig’s still rubbing the light burns from his eyes. “Knock before you come in. Jesus.”

“Calm down. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Right, Tweek?”

He looks at me, but I know better than to make eye contact. With my eyes lowered to my freshly bandaged knees, clear and prompt, I reply, “Yes, sir.”


End file.
